The Bleak Adventures of Puppet Sasori
by Sckitzo and Insomniac
Summary: Found as a block of wood by a old man in Kohona forest and raised by the village hag, Puppet Sasori's journey begins. Tormented by his inhumanity, chased by his fears, and driven by his desires, Sasori must understand the human mind before he can be one.
1. Chapter 1

**The Bleak Adventures of Puppet Sasori**

I spent sometime reading some fanfics on the members of the Akatsuki the other day. My favorite bad guys in all of Naruto to say the least! However, I was surprised that no one seemed to do a fairy tale version of Sasori's origin. It seemed to scream Pinocchio!

So here is my weird attempt at a Pinocchiofied version of Sasori's life and my first attempt at a fantasy fanfic.

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Naruto or The Adventures of Pinocchio. I am not profiting with anything I am writing.

Chapter One -

It came to be one solemn evening that Old Ebizo, a toymaker, found a lone oak tree in Konoha forest.

He had stopped abruptly from his feverous search for the perfect herbs to give to his dear sister when he stumbled on an uprooted root. A bout of laughter startled the old toy master. Though Maestro Ebizo preferred to remain emotionless and cold in the face of his rival, the pervert of a man Sarutobi, the moment he realized that the laughter originated from the hollow of an oak the wrinkles on his face intensified.

"Must be the wind." The Old Man reasoned, pushing himself up to carry onto his secluded cottage at the outskirts of the forest. As a hermit, Ebizo had often come across strange sounds from the forests begun to realize the tricks by which the mind plays on those alone.

"No wait! Don't leave me!" A beseeching child-like voice cried from within the wood.

A shudder ran along the spine of the elderly man. He was certain in that moment he heard the cry hollering in the oak tree. Trotting towards the grand plant, the Old Man pressed his ear against the base of its trunk. He then lifted his wrist and tapped the wood.

"Ouch! Stop hurting me! Stop it or I'll kill you!"

Old Man Ebizo narrowed his eyes in annoyance, "A trick played! A trick by Sarutobi, nonetheless! Sarutobi come out you old baboon! No reply? Could it be that this tree had learned to speak and cry? Well, I'll chop this tree down and see if someone is inside."

The old toymaker drew up his axe and hacked away at the tree, ignoring its shouts of pain. Ebizo believed it must have been a trick of his mind when he found nothing within the core of the wood. Gathering up his tools, Ebizo set off to the edge of Konoha forest where the land of Suna overlapped the luscious grounds.

Ebizo, weary of the meddling of a block of wood, decided to donate his finds to his beloved sister – a hag even older than he. "My sister Chiyo would have far greater use with you than I," he spoke tiredly as the company moved further from his life of seclusion and crossed the Great Naruto Bridge (a site named after a mischievous fox-child said to have said the village of Mist nearby) and into the bustling city of Kohona. "She is a puppet master and relies on my wood to create her art."

With these words, he knocked upon the Old Lady's door.

"Chiyo! I found something nice in the forest!" Ebizo called out, hurling the talking wood at his sister. Chiyo was once a beautiful maiden (the Desert Lily as the people of Suna called her) but now only her brittle bones and pasty wrinkled-skin remained. Many children from the village have mistaken her for the dead whenever she contemplated napping in public. Perhaps this was where the hag's dislike for children (the little brats) began.

Ebizo's shot hit dead on, knocking the old bat onto her back.

Fire brimming in her eyes, Old Lady Chiyo launched the block back into her brother's withered face. "You idiot! It's just a piece of wood. Come inside before I toss some of my poisons at you!"

The old toymaker fought back tears of agony and proceeded with great difficulty to explain to his stubborn bat of a sister the purpose of his gift.

"But my lovely sister –"

"You make me wait for over three hours for your arrival with my herbs and all you repay me with is a cinder block? Where are my herbs?"

"Chiyo the thing is -"

"You forgot didn't you?"

"No."

"Then where is it?"

"Would you both stop acting like a bunch of asses?" asked a bored voice that seemed to have come from no where. The quarrelling siblings looked at one another, both curious if the other heard the same sound.

"Did-Did you just call me an ass Ebizo?"

"What? No! Never! I was staring right at you when we heard that voice!"

"Oh enough of your 'voices' Ebizo. You're lucky that I don't send you to that nursing home run by Shizune. Some bolts are unscrewed in there if you get my draft."

The Old Man sighed, picking up the discarded wood which had rebounded from Chiyo's initial toss and hit the Old Lady's goat. The things he put up for his sister –

"Chiyo I thought you might want this lovely wood I cut. It would make a lovely wooden Marionette, would it not?

Chiyo rubbed the wart on her decaying chin, pondering her mule of a brother's proposal. "What do you want in return? My dear brother Ebizo, I am not as scattered as the village portrays me to be. No sane person offers anything without wanting an exchange."

The old toymaker chucked at her reasoning, "Chiyo since when have I been a sane man?"

The old puppet master's brow twitched, "Who is after you now Ebizo?" She concurred knowingly, accepting her brother's gift reluctantly.

"What? No one!"

"Liar!"

"Chiyo, did you just insult my standards?"

"What? No you buffoon, I didn't say anything. Great not only are you senile but you also need a hearing aid."

"Listen Chiyo if you insult me one more time -"

"Thief! Butt-sniffer! Lip-locking monkey-lover!"

"You take that back! I don't like to be compared to Sarutobi, Chiyo, and you know that."

"If you'd just use your brain than you would realize that the voice talking sounds like a boy!"

"Murderer! Get out, baby killer! Murderer!"

At that last remark the siblings grew deathly pale. Not many innocent citizens from Konoha knew of their dark past, assassins and traitors from their homeland of the desert.

Ebizo bowed his head to signal his departure, leaving his elder sister with the burden he had come across within the Kohona forest.

He desperately hoped that he truly wasn't going mad when he heard those odd voices.

At the disappearance of her brother, a dark gleam glistened in the old puppet master's eye as her gaze trailed along the remainders of a once elegant oak tree. Wanting to test out her theory, she grated her dirty fingernails against the block of wood.

"Oww! What are you trying to do? Stab someone?" the same tiny voice from before remarked. A grin spread like a wildfire across the old hag's wrinkled face. Something new, something remotely joyful had entered her life. The voice, the tiny voice, she had recognized its childish pitch.

"I'll make a lovely Marionette you shall make! A puppet that can sing and dance and talk!" the puppet master cackled, beginning the desolate existence of a non-existent entity.

Life was truly cruel to the weak and manipulated.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Bleak Adventures of Puppet Sasori**

Sorry I forgot to mention that I, Sckitzo, have been working on this fic and that Insomniac has been betaing it.

Anyway I'm going to be trying to update every two to three days. School's going to be back in session soon so it might take a bit longer. I do intend on finishing this fic just because I want to see where it goes.

Also last note: This story is based on the original version of Pinocchio. Not Disney's child-friendly version. Hence it's rated T. There might be some slash fluff later; I haven't made my mind up yet since I can't write a good slash.

On to the story …

Chapter Two –

Old Lady Chiyo retreated into her cottage and fashioned the Marionette in resemblance of a life-size child.

Her steady hands chipped away at the bark, her mind delving into a tranquil trance. Chiyo could not understand what came over her as she carved little beads for eyes into the puppet. She felt, oddly enough, as if this doll could see the sweat rolling down her forehead and hear her labored breaths.

"This takes patience, my little Marionette," she instructed, pulling a fist full of red yarn to the side. Her lovely new doll will be a sight to behold. As always her creations will be the envy of all puppeteers in Konoha's region. Chiyo even prided her gift above her occupation as a poison specialist.

"To make you the most perfect of all my creations. The outcome is worth the effort. Art, my puppet, is beauty. Art is eternal. Once I depart from this world, you will remain as evidence of my existence." With that said the old puppet master remained silent, her musings lingering unspoken within the caverns of her mind.

Hours passed before she put her tools away and examined her new creation.

The new puppet held an uncanny resemblance to a child she had known and raised half a century ago. The doll's eyes were painted murky brown and its hair a fiery red. She covered the wooden frame in a black coat with red cloud designs scattering across the makeshift sky. An indented segment of wood stuck out from the Marionette's chest, puncturing a proportion of his false heart.

After glancing at her new creation for a second, Chiyo felt as if she had failed as a puppet maker. Never before had she made such an expressionless doll.

Nonetheless like any newborn mother, she cooed her novel masterpiece, her long nails raking along side of the puppet.

"What shall I call you my little Marionette? Hmm … You remind me so much of my deceased grandson whose name was Sasori. His parents had died so all he had left was I. He was a lucky little boy, met his end quick yet fatal. Sasori, yes, Sasori will do."

To her morbid fascination the doll in her hands turned its head and gazed intently into her own dark orbs - a look of accusation.

Chiyo's creased nose snarled with disgust, "What are you staring at with your ugly eyes? What can you know of me?"

No answer came.

The old puppeteer snorted, setting the little Marionette onto the tile-counter beside her precious yellow canary trapped within its iron cage. Her canary shrieked at the new creation, startling the Old Lady. "Temari?" she called out, attempting to soothe her golden-feathered pet, "What has gotten into you?"

The canary's shrill grew louder.

A laugh escaped from the Marionette's lips.

The Old Lady directed her attention at the puppet Sasori, watching its wooden mouth moving without her control. This puppet's ability to move without her jurisdiction greatly disturbed the old puppeteer.

Sasori jumped from the counter, his wooden feet producing a distinct thud. The little puppet stood up straight, brushing away any dust particles lingering on his new coat. He was interrupted from his moment's contemplation by the sound of a tapping foot belonging to Old Lady Chiyo, his maker of some sorts.

The wooden Sasori pointed his finger and poked and laughed at his grandmother.

Chiyo's brow furrowed at her doll's insolence, "Do you laugh at me my puppet?"

The mouth halted its laughter, yet the impudent little toy stuck out its tongue and cried, "I am nobody's puppet, you old cow! The great Sasori bows to no mortal! I'm going to run from you old bag, see if you can catch me with your withered legs."

Not wanting to give the old bag a head start, the laughing puppet pushed his maker to the ground and ran towards the door of the secluded cottage. His only chance of escape, the Marionette believed, remained within his grasp.

But Old Lady Chiyo would have none of that. Being pushed around by her own doll caused a ball of fury to arise within her heart, "Temari, Kankuro! Stop that little wooden devil!" She called out to her pets, trying to stand from her puppet's roughhousing.

Her canary flew out from its iron cage and an old tabby appeared from a chest of aged-toys. They blocked the sprinting puppet's path, pecking at his eyes and clawing at his feet. With desperation, Sasori knocked the pets to the cold floor and continued his pursuit towards freedom.

Tired by her grandson's apparent hatred of her, Chiyo drew up her ripened fingers to face the wooden doll.

Sasori froze a few steps from the door, his eyes, if they could, would have grown wide with surprise. He tried to move his legs but found to his dismay that his own limbs were no longer in his control. Sasori cried out, "What are you doing wrinkly old hag? Why can't I move my limbs?"

His grandmother smirked weakly, her fingers dancing to a silent tune. The doll's limbs stirred, moving in the direction of her aged stature. Sasori's face lost its look of innocent confusion and was replaced by a deeper hatred for this woman who took his life and made it her own.

"No matter what you claim Sasori, you are still a Marionette. A puppet like you will always be controlled by a puppet master. What are you doing commanding your master?"

"Let me go! You're no master to me, let off!" Sasori shouted, struggling against the old hag's rigid control. He clenched his jaw then jerked forward, causing the nearly invisible strings from Chiyo's fingertips to be severed.

Laughing at his moment of triumph, the little puppet dashed away from his grandmother. However, due to his almost perilous encounter with the old bat he took no more chances and darted out, ignoring the vials of herbs scattered all across the little cottage.

His blatant disregard would prove fatal.

Old Lady Chiyo, a village hermit like her brother, was once a master of the art of poison. Still at her old age she collected special acidic components from plants and wild life, her collection turning from a mere hobby to obsession.

The old puppeteer also owned the laziest cat this side of Konoha, the creature preferring to lie out in the sun than to catch little grey mice for dinner. Currently the tabby slept dangerously close to Sasori's route of escape.

Thus poor Sasori tripped over the tabby cat Kankuro and flew right into her poisonous collection.

Hearing the sound of shattering glass, Chiyo rushed to the toxic site near the exterior of her house. With pity she carefully picked up the drenched doll, watching as his body began to slowly deteriorate. "Oh look at what you've done to yourself you foolish little Marionette. Sasori can't you even be good for your own grandmother? The liquid in this vial is among my strongest acids. Even you faux boy will feel it tittering your wooden flesh."

The puppet groaned, his eyes bleary with pain. Oh how he cursed his great misfortune.

Chiyo's gaze grew darker as if finally seeing the mess that her grandson created, "That's what you get idiot Sasori. Now I will have to take you apart and build new pieces for your body."

And so with great agony began the miserable life of Puppet Sasori, chained to a madwoman's home with no opportunity of escape.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Bleak Adventures of Puppet Sasori**

So Sasori has finally appeared. Yeah! Another new character will be introduced in this chapter, one that all of you should recognize.

Do not fear my dear readers, Sasori's journey has just begun thus he will one day escape the captivity of his dear grandmother and then he will begin a quest of epic proportions. However that will not occur until at least chapter six.

Sasori is also a little OCish. I apologize for that inconvenience, but his character needed to fit this role in order for the story to make sense. I also apologize for my delay in updating. I had problems last night in submitting this chapter.

Also for a hundred hits I shall reward you readers by giving you all a slightly longer chapter. Enjoy!

Note from Insomniac: A warning for language for this chapter. And due to technical difficulties, Skitzo has been delayed from updating so I'm updating for her. Gomen ne minna-san! Read and enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Naruto or Pinocchio.

Chapter Three –

Seasons have passed yet our poor little Marionette still remains in the clutches of the nasty witch of poison Chiyo. No matter how hard Sasori tried, he could not escape the wicked household where even the Old Lady's pets seem to fill his wooden heart with unbearable loathing.

However the aged-bimbo proved her use. Seeing her little wooden doll sulking in the corners of her household, silently plotting her bloody demise has caused Chiyo to take deliberate measures to entertain her grandson. Hence she instructed the puppet in the art of poison and in the skill of puppetry, so to preoccupy Sasori's mind with positive outlets.

Unfortunately she did not consider how bored Puppet Sasori must have felt having nothing but puppets to keep him accompanied.

Sasori sat alone (no real surprise there, not a soul has visited the old hermit since he had been fashioned into his Marionette body) beside the outskirts of Kohona forest. Betwixt his fingertips were tiny strings, dangling to join two miniature wooden dolls. The two puppets (Mother and Father) were Sasori's first creations and because of that he spent hours upon hours polishing their surfaces and oiling their joints. These puppets were the only objects in his home that gave poor little Sasori any comfort.

The Marionette glanced up from his game, gazing into the dark abyss of the enchanted woods. The forest surrounding the old bat's cottage always filled his hollow body with dread. It felt as if something evil was lurking within those trees – those trees which Old Lady Chiyo claimed he was once a part of.

It was as if something horrific happened. Sometimes Sasori could hear the faint strangled screams of the long deceased echoing through the branches of the trees. Sasori could almost envision the blood soaking into the rich fertile soil. All of this unnerved the wooden puppet.

"Somehow … I-I fear this forest. Something appalling must have happened if my nerves quiver at the sight." Sasori said to no one, transfixed at the vision of woodland terror before him.

Suddenly the bush beside him rustled. Sasori dropped his little Marionettes, head turning to the source of restless sound. He crawled closer to the shrub; tilting his crown the puppet shoved his head into the bush.

Only to find razor sharp claws attach themselves to his skull.

"Argh! Holy shit what the fuck is this!" a string of profanity escaped from the puppet's lips. Sasori continued to shout as the brown creature scraped its talons deeper. He reached to grab a single ringed tail and tossed the monster from his face.

The creature withered and shook, screaming so loudly that Sasori was sure the villagers would come looking for the source of the ruckus. It was a brown raccoon with dark black rings around his green teal eyes. Above its left brow was imprinted a red kanji symbol "love". In the eve of its skull's immense throbbing, the little monster clutched its head within its paws, muttering incoherent words.

"Mother? Mother!" cried the mad monster, clawing the tethered soil.

Sasori quirked a brow and muttered, "A talking raccoon?"

The raccoon's body quaked. Unexpectedly, a sea of white sand spread across the enclosure. Sasori watched with fascination as the human-like dirt floated around the crazed woodland creature. Due to its unrelenting screams, Sasori assumed that the raccoon –the tanuki – appeared to be undergoing a most painful migraine from an unknown cause.

"Mother? Mother why do you cry so?" the raccoon called out in a child-like manner. It clenched its temple once more. "Please stop, I'll quench your thirst."

A hungry gleam arose from those green orbs. The sand surrounding the raccoon quickened its flight, as if finding the anticipation of a hunt exciting. Sasori took a step back, away from this deranged woodland animal. The raccoon licked its lips, eyeballing the wooden puppet with delight.

A wave of sand erupted from its tranquil floating, surrounding the unexpected Puppet Sasori. The sand cloaked his wooden frame, choking every joint in his body. 'Great' the little Marionette thought in annoyance, 'if I come out of this alive I'm going to have to ask the old witch to rebuild my body again.'

The freaky tanuki cackled, twittering its little paws eagerly. The little monster pressed its face to its victim's nose and chortled "Mother cries for red blood. Your blood must spill and paint the soil!"

"Shut up you sick freak!" In all honesty, Sasori was getting sick of this annoying, mentally disturbed raccoon. So he did what any normal, sane puppet would have done in his circumstance. Sasori opened his mouth.

The raccoon's eyes watered, until the voracious sting halted its previous intentions. A mysterious and equally acidic gas had escaped the Marionette's lips and now poisoned the tanuki's face. Sasori smirked, slipping out of the formerly murderous sand's grip. Once again he was indebt to the old hag for installing toxics in his body.

"Ahh! Our face! Our face!" bellowed the pathetic ring-tailed monster. "Please save us, we don't want to die!"

For the first time in his miserable state of being another creature cried for his help. Sasori did not know why, but his wooden heart swelled with pity at this now defenseless animal.

The puppet made his way towards the beast, a vial filled with clear liquid visible in his timber hand. He patted the head of the trembling tanuki, opening its right eye then hesitating before allowing three drops to hit the teary surface. He did the same to the other eye, briefly lingering over the strange kanji over the raccoon's brow.

Sasori then took his leave, once he was sure the little raccoon was not in any danger. However a heavy weight suddenly appeared on his shoulder, causing his frame to slouch. A tick grew at Sasori's brow as he realized that the crazy beast had lunged towards him and now proceeded to _hug_ him.

"Thank you, Master," nuzzled the ring-tailed one, "Yes you are a kind Master indeed."

"Master, huh?" Perhaps Sasori would dismiss the raccoon's need of physical tendencies. "Great. Now what am I going to do with a schizophrenic raccoon?" the Marionette mumbled sarcastically, hesitantly petting the cooing creature. He cleared his throat, "I am Puppet Sasori. I am curious raccoon; do you live in this vile forest?"

It shook its head and replied, "No. We were traveling from Suna and stopped …" A dreamy glint appeared in the raccoon's eyes. It liked its lip then began, "Blood, such a beautiful flowing liquid. Its metallic taste saturates our senses."

Sasori was a patient Marionette. He had to be, as the Old Lady sometimes left him for days alone in the cottage with nothing to entertain his mischievous mind. Therefore he waited ever so patiently as the crazed raccoon ranted about the delicious quality of blood. The beast nuzzled its nose into the crook of Sasori's neck before asking softly, "So Master Puppet, you think it's vile in these woods? What about this forest intrigues you?"

"Everything."

Though on the verge of lunacy, the fuzzy creature knew a rhetoric remark when he heard one. There was something deep, much deeper in his master. Almost animalistic but definitely vengeful.

He knew then that loved his new master.

The raccoon sighed contentedly, leaning his furry head against the puppet's shoulder. "You asked so we shall answer. We have many names. Mother is Shukaku. I, on the other hand, am Gaara of the desert."

"Gaara?" Sasori repeated, pondering this rather peculiar name.

Gaara's eyes happily danced, shifting the cool gaze towards the other side of the terrain. He laughed at the irony, "Interesting. A puppet playing with puppets."

Sasori's dark gaze deepened. "I find nothing fascinating with it at all."

He calmly walked to his dolls, bending down to cradle them under his arm. His murky brown eyes shone with adoration. "I suffer from not only physical tortures from my insane grandmother, but also from boredom." Sasori admitted to the deranged raccoon, "The old hag taught me how to recognize certain poisons and to control invincible strings, to tame my boredom if you will. Perhaps she didn't want me contemplating her death as often. Anyways this gift – it is power."

Gaara knew of power. His mother radiated of power. "You feel no remorse for what you are doing?" the tanuki asked out of curiosity. He would not eat the flesh of another raccoon, so why should his master play with the lives of puppets?

Sasori snorted, berating the stupidity of his new pet, and snarled, "Why should I? Because I am a puppet myself? Don't be foolish raccoon. Humans do this all the time. They undermine one another to get higher in the corporate ladder. I don't see the difference. Besides puppets can not feel, nor can they sing, nor dance, nor speak. They-we are not of flesh."

Gaara pondered this truth silently. Then a sinister smile crossed the raccoon's visage.

The little raccoon pressed his lips against the puppet's ear and whispered softly, "Mother tells me that there is another way to make puppets. It's an ancient way, so that puppets are not made of wood." Gaara's voice began to quiver in excitement as his mother told him more of their secret. "They are made of flesh. The flesh of the dead."

Instead of receiving admiration from his master for his marvelous deduction, Puppet Sasori merely shoved the poor raccoon off his shoulder and into a gutter. Teary-eyed, Gaara looked up curious as to decipher his master's mood change.

If Sasori's glares before had been dark, this last one oozed with poison. "Shut up fucker. I don't want to hear anymore of your nonsense."

Gaara's grin spread wider (if that was even possible). The tanuki hopped towards his master and nestled once more on his shoulder, sinking his claws into the wood incase something inappropriate would slip from his mouth. "Didn't strike you as the jealous type, Master," Gaara sneered, taunting his wooden master's imperfections. "What, did you want the Old Lady to sever your real limbs?"

Sasori's eyes narrowed. "Don't test me." He spat, not wanting to agree or disagree with the rodent's perception.

"I wonder do you really hate Lady Chiyo." Gaara questioned cheekily, receiving another threatening glare from his master.

"With every fiber of my being."

"Why?" Gaara had to ask. There was a story he knew, a background, to why a person did things the way they did. The tanuki was always far too curious.

Yet instead of beating his pet, Sasori sadly replied, "She took away everything. The cow may be senile but I can never forget her."

"But Master?" Gaara inquired, his single tail wagging restlessly with excitement of a perilous tale, "I don't understand. Did she not create you?"

"She destroyed me."

The silence of the forest was unnerving to Sasori. He saw that the sun now hovered above his head, signaling the awakening of the old bat. The Marionette decided at that very moment to keep this new pet. Gaara might scare his grandmother rightfully so and also frighten those good for nothing little monsters she kept.

"Let's go to the cottage."

If Old Lady Chiyo was at all disturbed by the presence of her wooden grandson's new pet she did not voice her distress.

The raccoon sprawled its body on Sasori's left shoulder, with its hideous smoldering eyes glinting with blood lust. The creature gazed hungrily at the old puppeteer, licking its lips at the sight of human flesh.

Even more disturbing was her grandson's ambiance towards her person. The Marionette had never shown any positive emotion in her direction. Actually now that she thought about it, she didn't think the doll ever showed any emotion besides annoyance and boredom.

"Nana? Where are you going?" mumbled her wooden grandson, tugging at the hem of her skirt. His seemingly innocent eyes peered into her.

Chiyo smiled softly at his antics. Though he was merely a Marionette it often surprised the Old Lady how real her creation appeared. "Out to the market my grandson. Why do you ask Sasori?"

Was it her imagination or did her doll just shudder in fright? Must have been her imagination.

Sasori bit his lip, voice trembling as he commanded, "Don't leave me here alone!" Something was wrong, the old poison expert gathered. Why else did her favored child act this way?

"Can I come with you?" her puppet asked sheepishly, petting the ever watchful tanuki as he did so. Perhaps Chiyo had indeed imagined her suspicions. Sasori was just bored. She really did not see any harm in bring him to the market as he would be supervised under her alerting vigilance.

"I don't see why not."

Even the wisest man can make the gravest of mistakes.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Bleak Adventures of Puppet Sasori**

A/N: Yeah was still having trouble with updating the chapters. School's back in session unfortunately, so I'll try to update every week or so with a new chapter. Last chapter was a dozy to make, this one's gonna be shorter that's for sure.

For all of those confused by Gaara's purpose in the story he's like a demented version of Jiminy Cricket. There will be at least two other characters with the cricket's personality, but none of them last as long as Gaara. He fits Sasori's personality.

Sasori and Chiyo both have a brutal past that will be revealed in due time. I might push our Sasori's escape a couple chapters back. He won't leave Konoha for quite sometime.

Enjoy and I apologize for the inconvenience of my delay in updating.

_Insomniac: Can't you just imagine raccoon Gaara in a very cute chibified form despite his insanity?_

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything really. Every sentence I've ever wrote has been written by someone before, but it's still fun to write, non??

Chapter Four –

The bustling market place was absolutely flowing with such strange commodities – merchants haggling over prices, women shoving one another for the latest garments, children playing silly games in the streets, men thrusting swords down their throats – all of these events were overlooked by visitors as something of the norm.

A nervous child clung desperately to the hem of his grandmother's robe. There was something disquieting about the crowd, something that young Sasori apprehended, "Nana?" the Marionette whispered, making sure his wooden limbs were hidden underneath his attire, "There are so many people here."

Chiyo nodded impatiently, one hand palming her coins protectively, knowing the desolate street-rats would not pass an opportunity to pocket an old woman. "Yes child. Konoha is one of the most proliferate villages in the Fire Nation. It was once not like this, of course." A quizzical expression appeared plastered across the Marionette's face. '_Fire Nation?' _He inquired to himself, storing this latent discovery for further use. His new pet had failed to mention any information on the country of his sire.

"This could pose a dilemma in my most arborous of plans," the child-like doll whispered harshly, clenching the palms of his hands. The tanuki gulped, anxiety heaping at his master's notable change in mood. It could only mean that bodily harm was on its way if the raccoon couldn't quickly please his Master Puppet.

The Old Lady, a hag in the puppet's perspective, had not detected any sudden changes in her grandson's disposition.

Gaara, like his owner, cared little for the rotting flesh, but knew that his master had something in mind for her demise. He snorted, remaining hidden beneath Sasori's red and black coat. The raccoon could hardly wait for blood to spill.

"How do melons sound to you Sasori?" The aged-puppeteer asked, lifting a large yellow fruit for her grandson to see. The Marionette twitched, curiously pondering why the old cow was asking _him _of all people if melons would be good to eat. She really was going senile. However Chiyo misinterpreted Sasori's aggravated expression as a sign of discomfort.

"Is something the matter, beloved grandchild?" the old woman remarked, handing the melon to a merchant.

A stark retort was about to escape the wooden child's lips when he gazed at a most frightening robed-man speaking with an elder figure that seized some sort of authority within the village. The dark haired man held a gaze of loathing and distrust, eyes darting suspiciously towards the civilians in the market place. Dark eyes that soundlessly spoke of horrors – little terrors that Sasori felt.

This rush of emotion, feelings if you will, caused the apprehensive Marionette to shiver. His pet glanced peculiarly at his master from under the coat, unfamiliar with the puppet's bizarre behavior. Nonetheless, loyal Gaara whispered sweet nothings like his mother often did to appease him in a moment of crisis. Tales of violent deaths and fleeting lives always comforted the young tanuki.

'Their leader' the furry monster had remarked to his master, 'was a heart-loving fool. The Almighty Baboon, they had taunted in the streets of Suna while I was a cub.'

Yet still Gaara's reassurance did not calm Sasori from his inner turmoil. This man ahead of him, talking politely with the village leader, understood the secrets of Konoha's past. His hatred for the village was so apparent that Sasori could not help but feel the air choking around him.

"Nana." The doll muttered uncertainly, less confident with the angst he felt while regarding the strange man, "I'm scared. Who is that strange man next to the Hokage?"

Chiyo turned to her little Marionette, "How do you know of the Hokage?" A head peered from the back of her grandson's coat, maddening green eyes cursing her observance and whispering tales of sweet bloodshed in Sasori's ear.

The old lady sighed; apparently her doll's pet has proved by far to be the worst nuisance of all. "Never mind. The man is our former Kazekage. He was among the hundreds that flocked from the village of Suna to Konoha. A foreigner that became one of the strongest and loyalist allies to this community."

Interest peaked in Sasori's eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew what she was telling him was the truth – as if he had somehow already known this fact. It discomfited the puppet greatly.

"You speak of those strangers fondly. Were you from Suna, Nana?" the mischievous Sasori asked, leaning closer to his grandmother. Subconsciously he led his nearly-dead cow into a quiet alleyway, where their discussion could not be eavesdropped by passing villagers. He would not want them to think any less of his grandmother Chiyo.

"My entire family was from the desert." The elder admitted, her mind drifting away to a time where things were peaceful and the sand was a nation of glory. It is interesting how much can change in a lifetime. Chiyo could not help but be reminded that her time would soon be up in this world, and all she had left behind would be a wooden puppet masquerading as her grandson.

"Sasori," the mistress of poison called, glancing at the estranged expression on her grandson's face. His fingers dug deeply, revulsion gleaming in his eyes. Oh how it was close, so close, the hag wouldn't know what hit her now. Concerned with his unsociable attitude, Chiyo glanced at the child, "you're gripping my arm too tightly. There much better. Sasori? Sasori! What are you-?"

Her grandchild stilled his grandmother with invisible threads, then came up to her and embraced her.

Chiyo's eyes widened, the wrinkles on her face never before were this pronounced. She staggered away from the wooden child, avoiding the mocking manifestation of hurt on her doll's visage.

Metallic wings stabbed her in the back, injecting lucrative toxins into her body. Slow chemicals that if left untreated would kill her within a number of hours.

Those new appendages flew from the spine of her puppet grandchild, coated in thick red blood. Her blood. A tiny raccoon manically laughed at her misfortune, pulsing orbs desiring the taste of its master's kill. Except she wasn't quite dead yet.

Sasori snarled, careful not to decapitate his affectionate pet who had been lapping the blood from his wings, "Like the new addition? Had plenty of time to fix myself up at that pathetic hut."

"Karma's a bitch old bag! Don't go and pretend that you don't deserve this," the child accused. Chiyo, feeling for the Marionette's lifeline, paused to admire the stupidity of her doll. She would have to readjust some of its clockwork this time, she couldn't afford another mistake.

"Stupid grandchild. You think your poisons can stop me?"

"Honestly? No. But it'll be fun to watch." The child-like toy sat a top of a wooden carton, admiring the art he had accomplished. The tanuki snuggled into her grandson's chin, pleased with its master's work. It then trained its blood lust eyes in her direction. Chiyo knew she had limited time.

With one solid motion she lifted one hand into a pocked in her robe and pulled out a vial. She drank its contents and tossed the remnants against the alley way wall. Sasori tilted his head, curiosity getting the best of him "What are you doing?" he said unable to pry his eyes from the sight. The Marionette motioned forward, and then froze. His hatred for the mortal woman soared to new levels, "You think these strings can hold me."

"You think that with these bloody strings you can control me again? That I would be held a prisoner of my own body? That you can stop me?" he barked, motioning for his pet to flee.

She did not respond. Instead, the elder puppeteer gripped her grandson by his neck and lifted him. She watched emotionlessly as the doll struggled for breath, invisible threads now also cutting any mode of circulation. Perfect.

"I can not stop you. But if you struggle your limbs will tear from your body." She warned, hesitant to break the beautiful body of her departed grandson.

Sasori's eyes narrowed, "Foolish mortal cow. Shows how stupid you truly are. I'm merely a puppet. I _can't_ feel."

"But you can, Nana."

A brown beast leaped up into the air, surrounded by a sphere of red sand. Madness, the thirst of blood, assumed. It took everything in the old lady of Suna not to scream. Then there was darkness.

Puppet Sasori, with a semi-unconscious raccoon at hand, ran from his buried grandmother. He almost sacrificed his pet in his desire for revenge, the fleeting emotion of guilt still present in his cold wooden heart. Now he feared that all would be in vain. The old bat was always so temperamental. It would only take minutes for her to dig herself out that sand. He needed aid from an outsider.

Officer Shiranui Genma enjoyed an uneventful stroll within the hidden village of the leaf. The young man with straw colored hair watched the peddlers on the streets, a hint of bemusement dancing in his murky black eyes.

Alas as all tranquil evenings, they just had to end rather abruptly.

A hand reached out to his dark green vest, pulling the officer from his peaceful mindset. A little child of deep red hair gazed at his with fearful beady eyes. He wore an oddly assorted black cloak with painted red clouds. On the boy's shoulder was a lump, where a tiny furry creature peered through its aquamarine orbs.

Remarkably, the hand tugging felt excessively hard – not like the soft nimble fingers of the common snot-nosed brat.

However another frantic gesture halted the officer's musings as the boy cried louder, "Help me mister! You have to help me!" The howl of distress dragged unwanted attention from the crowd. Officer Genma bent down to the child's eye level, asserting the bizarre boy's condition.

"What is wrong child? Is something the matter?"

"Get that wicked little boy!" shouted a hoarse voice from the crowd. An old woman pushed aside the throng of bodies, knocking over a street vendor in the process.

"Old Lady Chiyo?" Genma pondered aloud, wondering if he had correctly identified the old crone. It wasn't a mystery to any of the citizens of Konoha that the Sand Elders drew power from the madness of their minds. The officer of the leaf sighed, irritated by the sudden disturbance of this once peaceful evening. 'Just another mild day with the intervention of the Sand' the official thought, taking the initiative of this sensitive subject by removing his much favored stick from the caverns of his mouth.

A bored gaze met the shrieking senile woman, "What're you wailing about this time?"

A hotly glare met his. There was something peculiar about the old woman this evening, Genma observed taking note of her rather heaved breaths. The ancient bat never appeared tired, no matter what excruciating activity she has undergone.

"That troublesome brat is my grandson." Old Chiyo spat, pointing at the clinging child hidden behind his leg.

The officer quirked a brow, eyes shifting from the frightened child to the enraged elder. Genma smirked, "Really? The resemblance is uncanny."

Whispers grew from the gathered mass, cynical responses and half-hearted inquiries arose. The petty villagers of Konoha never overlooked an opportunity to gossip.

"Look. Is that the hermit Chiyo? What's she doing outside of her hut?"

"My God did you see the state of that boy? The old crony probably beats him."

"Is that true? Does she hurt you child?" Genma asked, eyes narrowing at the sight of the old crone. He didn't trust the old bag any further than he could throw her.

The child's eyes adverted to the ground. He gulped, shaking beneath the officer's intense gaze, "Says I deserve what ever I get."

By this point, Officer Genma had enough bullshit. He couldn't understand why any sane person could beat a defenseless child. He regarded his partner, a newly appointed captain of the leaf, and commanded "Captain Yamato, escort Old Lady Chiyo to Ibiki's chamber please. I hate adults that beat their children."

"What!" the old bag shrilled, exclaiming her audible protests as she was dragged by the bored captain. She smacked the other in the face, attempting to escape her sentenced fate, "You can't do this to me. Unhand me you fiend!"

"Ma'am," Yamato forcibly demanded, tightening his grip on the old Suna poison ninja, "If you cause any further delays I will have to sedate you."

Around noontime the crowd dispersed, leaving the previously frantic boy alone to his own sickening thoughts. The wooden Marionette smiled in wonder, disbelief settling in as to how easy it was to trick the flesh-walkers. Sasori felt a shift in his coat, the rhythmic cackling of that crazed tanuki bringing him back to reality.

"That show was beautiful my Master," Gaara applauded with admiration, nuzzling his master's chin in adoration. His love for his master could only intensify with every act of brutality. Even mother praised the puppet's performance, though reprimanded him for allowing their body to be in such a state of weariness.

Sasori cheekily smiled, walking away from the busy streets of Konoha. No need to extinguish any other suspicious bystanders. "An award-winning performance I must say. Difficult thing will be to put myself back together again," the puppet commented, indicating the broken metallic wings his grandmother disposed of in the battle with the sand. A flitting thought caused a bolt of laughter to surge in Sasori's body, "It will hurt."

Gaara looked up at his master quizzically, a single tail twitching in confusion, "I don't understand. I thought you couldn't feel."

"I can't." The doll's grin spread across his face.

"Then?"

"Just a little joke."

The small raccoon shook his head, pity eminent in his glance. Gaara sorely wished that his master could feel the twinge of excitement at the sight of pain in others. Mother agreed that this would make his master far more attractive, covered in blood, with a gleam of madness in his eyes.

Not that cold look, the serious expression -not even realizing what exactly he was doing. To the little beast, Sasori appeared to be playing a game when he hurt others.

"You're missing out Master." The raccoon attempted to elaborate, "Pain tells the body that we're alive."

Sasori chuckled, "Not mine. Never my pain."

And so our story, for a brief incurable moment, drifts away from the wooden Marionette and his talking raccoon and to two inquiring officers held stationary within the contrabands of town.

Now once more another tale begins …

Previously captivated by the oddly colorful child, officials Genma and Yamato stood dutifully beside a prison cell, ignoring the shrieks of the captive wrongdoers in the Uchiha Police Force's domain. At times Genma believed that the proud brothers of the legendary Sharingan were as vile and savage as the sand warriors of Suna, particularly with their effective measurements deliberated on the inhabitants of this holding ground.

In all reality the Uchiha Headquarters was Ibiki's paradise. Only a true sadist could love a land such as this.

Yamato, carefully shielding his mouth guard tighter as to not vomit the content of his lunch, examined silent companion. Officer Genma sighed in exasperation, not used to such an awkward incident between him and his comrade. The straw-color haired man chewed gingerly on the senbon-like stick, "Who do you think that was Captain?"

Neither of the men needed to distinguish the topic of very musings. Both had been undoubtedly pondering the old bag's words and the red-headed boy's remarkable resemblance to a once thought dead being.

Shiranui unconsciously bit his lip, "That child with the poison master, do you think Chiyo would do such a horrific thing again?"

The captain prevented the shudder from sending shivers down his spine as he was reminded once more of the abominations created by the elderly woman. He did not want to be reduced to the state of a genin warrior in the face of his calm partner.

Yamato chose his word's carefully, as always. "I am uncertain Genma." He muttered, zoning out the louder shrills from just down the hall. He, like every other member of the police force, hated the pompous Uchiha clan. Captain Yamato paused for a moment to rethink his decision, "Maybe we should mention this to the Hokage."

Officer Genma nodded, aware of that predicament eons ago. His partner had not relieved any of his concerns whatsoever.

"That woman is as cold as ice, I dare say." Genma noted, crunching the end of stick. "Not even Ibiki can crack her."

On a lighter note, what many including his partner Yamato failed to realize was that the secret of this officer's career was held within the mandible of his jaw. The innocent little stick clenched between the leaf warrior's mouth was actually a weapon – a senbon as noted previously. Of course, Genma did not go about advertising his little weakness.

Captain Yamato, remnant of the first founder of the village of the leaf, remembered the delicacy of the body. Bones and organs were so easy to break. He could still as a child recall the black screams from the forest surrounding the old hermit's cottage.

"She and her brother have caused so much suffering in the Fire Nation." Yamato emphasized, "What is worse becomes apparent now that her grandson has reappeared."

"Then you believe her claims? That the boy is of the undead?"

"Without a doubt."

The two men remained oddly subdued at this awareness; however the officers spontaneously decided to keep their revelation a secret. Nothing good, both silently agreed, could come about with the knowledge of the dead walking among them.

Silence would keep this town under the strings of the puppet.

-


	5. Chapter 5

**The Bleak Adventures of Puppet Sasori**

Insomniac: Aaaaah!!! Sumimasen minna-san! This chapter has long been delayed! But it's up now so enjoy!

Sckitzo: Thank you to all the readers who have reviewed. Your responses are inspirational to me! This chapter will not be too short to make up for the time it took for me to update (sorry about that!) Now that Sasori finally got rid of the old bat Chiyo, what is a puppet to do?

Another new guest appearance will arrive. Its one of Konoha's finest, that's for sure.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own any of Naruto or Pinocchio

Chapter Five –

The cottage on the outskirts of the dreaded forest, the home of our very own tanuki, lay deserted. Beginning with various cobwebs that hung from the ceiling of the adobe, a pile of dishes stacked in the disused sink, and an ever-pungent odor of rotting eggs through the rug – thus the melancholy of the furred beast began.

Aquamarine eyes followed a fluttering butterfly, a predatory gaze never once faltering from the delicate insect. Beside the bush where his master had found him sat the raccoon, prepared to make the kill. A little longer – a moment now – and! Pounce!

"Hehehe … Die! Die! Die!" chuckled the mad raccoon, twittering the dead carcass of the butterfly. Gaara sniffed his prize, before licking his fingers and disposing of its remains. He sighed with contentment and curled his toes. What great work was done today!

No sooner had the thought ran through his mind before a splitting ache gnawed and pounded at his skull. The crazed tanuki winced, racking his stubby claws across his scalp. Gaara clenched his roots, scraping so softly, and whispered, "Mother? What is it?" The one-tailed creature shook, carrying a conversation with itself. How clever had he felt, "Should we go bother the master? No?"

Gaara jolted from his stupor and muttered, "Why not? Master knows so much."

A vociferous growl erupted from the under belly of the beast. The tanuki had the gall to look morbidly appalled. He, the Great Bearer of Shukaku? Slowly deteriorating over lack of essential nutrients, such a weakness was he!

Another gargle. Gaara doubled over, "Ah! I can't take this anymore! We are still so hungry. Stupid baa-chan, without her we are starving." Bawled the tanuki, ruing the day he suggested the blood-letting of the hag. His master, as luck would prevail, could not feel the pain he felt. A puppet could not eat. Was it fair that the pet must suffer?

Gaara sniffled, ignoring the booming laughter echoing throughout his skull at his sorry predicament. "Temari the canary and Kankuro the cat ran away so long ago it feels. Without them we starve!" The ring-tailed raccoon whined, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "It was a bad idea after all, Shukaku, to let Master punish the hag."

But oh, how could young Gaara say those blasphemous words? The vision of the puppet's deranged grandmother, her blood soaking the alley floors, brought a strange euphoria to every single one of the creature's senses.

He admitted with shame that the sight caused him to salivate.

Yes, the almighty Gaara of the Desert drooled.

An indigenous croak interrupted the great raccoon's train of thought. His ears perked up to the sound, eagerly contemplating the intrusion. 'A meal?' Gaara thought, cackling with glee. Oh his great fortune.

"Something is there! Oh the rushing smell, livid iron sliding down my throat." Howled the crazed ringed-raccoon. He sulked and tracked, like the sly predator he was, trailing the faint scent of blood. His aquamarine eyes followed the boisterous noise, landing to a puddle of mud near the gate of the hut.

Orbs dilated, the hunt was on. The barbaric yawp resounds, "And we pounce!"

Sasori the Puppet rested idly on the porch, his legs cascading over a single wooden step. It was perplexing to the puppet – after all why design merely one step to lead into the hut when there requires several to enter the home? Issues such as these often punctured the remarkably bored Marionette's mind who, after the fiasco with the rotting cow, found little that could amuse him.

Sudden, dark cackles interrupted his previous internal inquires. Sasori searched the compound, attempting to locate the sounds. There, near the forest by which crawled of evil, was his pet, pouncing furiously after an oddly green creature.

Sasori sighed, trotting effortlessly towards the ruckus the mad raccoon created. "Gaara?" he shouted, causing said pet to stagger then gracefully trip over a rock. He swore under his breath, before turning to his beloved master.

His master's face was as stern as ever, "What are you rambling about again?"

"Master! Master!" chanted Gaara of the desert, a monstrous gleam in his eyes lighting his furry face. Sasori could not help but notice a green blob struggling within the crevices of his pet's fangs. "Look at what we caught! Isn't it divine?" the ring-tailed raccoon exclaimed, sticking his tongue out to reveal a semi-unconscious amphibian lying in his mouth.

Sighing with exasperation, the puppet clenched his roots, feeling a headache coming on. Sometimes the stupidity of his pet truly astounded him, "Spit that thing out you brainless tanuki."

Gaara frowned at the audacity of this command, "But-"

"NOW!" an enraged wooden being roared, brutally clutching the raccoon's tail. Surely his master knew better? Couldn't he see the injustice of the great Shukaku, starving to death? A measly little morsel should not even concern him at all.

Nonetheless Gaara spat the creature out.

A green amphibious monster, no larger than the palm of the puppet's hand, landed gracefully upon a lily pad – as if it had not been nearly consumed by a rabid raccoon. The grimy creature peered up at the face of its liberator, taking in every chivalrous quality in its round beady eyes. With as much energy as a near-ingested being could muster, the amphibian broke into a blinding smile.

Sasori's brow twitched.

There, on the toad's temple, developed what appeared to be two identical black, thick caterpillars. They were growths attached to the ugly creature's face. Sasori almost pitied the monster, if he wasn't to busy attempting to ignore those freaky eyebrows.

And why did a toad have eyebrows? How could this have occurred? Were there anymore freaks of nature around? Sasori did find it odd that his own pet had no eyebrows whilst this monster had …

Oh. The fuzzy-browed thing was speaking.

"Ribbit. Ribbit. YOSH! My hearty thanks you. Ribbit. Ribbit." Croaked the toad, which chose at that moment to leap into Sasori's arms. The puppet swatted at the offending beast, only to be reluctantly surprised as the creature dodged, then proceeded to flip in the air, and land confidently on his shoulder with a rushing kick.

The amphibian bowed. Sasori could just feel those caterpillar's staring at him.

"A taijutsu toad master?" the Marionette quirked his brow, grabbing the unprepared creature and squeezing the slimy beast between his wooden fingers. The animal's round eyes gazed into his before a bright smile gleamed, blinding the puppet with the opaque light. Sasori dropped the monster of shining teeth, screaming loud obscenities, "Be gone obnoxious, fucking beast! Be gone!"

The creature was as dumb as it was ugly. It landed with poise on its previous lily pad, before catapulting its body on Gaara's previous perch. "I am a frog! Ribbit!"

The repulsive frog with enormous eyebrows then decided at that precise moment to rub its face against Sasori's cheek. The robe-clad puppet shivered with disgust, realizing that the combination of grotesque furry caterpillars and slimy grime would leave behind a trail of residue. He hated his life.

"Whatever."

"Is that your pet? Ribbit," inquired the obnoxious frog, indicating the absurd raccoon murmuring obscenities under his breath. It narrowed its beady eyes, "He's not a good guide. Oh, great one you can do so much better."

Whatever amount of self-control the tanuki held shattered at those words. "Hey! Shut your trap."

"What do you mean by that?" Sasori demanded, startled by his most defensive stance towards his pet. Maybe the little monster was growing on him.

"I saw what you did to your grandmother, Marionette. Ribbit. But … Ribbit … THROUGH THE POWER OF YOUTH LOVE SHALL CONQUER YOUR HATRED!"

"Master, master, honorable master, can I eat his flesh?" Gaara inquired innocently, stroking the underside of his belly.

Sasori glared, "No Gaara. Bad indigestion."

"RIBBIT! I ROCK LEE, SHALL SHOW YOU THE FOLLY OF YOUR WAYS!" shouted the frog, pointing admirably towards the sun. Its teeth shone brightly, while a sun set miraculously appeared behind its slimy body.

Disturbing.

"Wait. Folly?"

Those beady eyes directed a glance of absolute sympathy, as if understanding that everything the puppet had done was not truly of his doing. The ignorance would always remain in the weak-minded doll. "It is alright, toy Marionette. Ribbit. I understand that you need to be guided under the teachings of … Ribbit … Gai-sensei! With that you can be as COOL and HIP as he! Stabbing and sentencing your grandmother is positively UNYOUTHFUL!"

"It burns! Ah! It burns my eyes!" howled the scurrying tanuki, his behavior going largely unnoticed by the truly youthful frog. Sasori grimaced.

The flexible frog' pose was nothing but flamboyant, hands at hips, its fist clenched in the air. The eyes and teeth were again shining from an unknown source. And of course, the sun had extraordinarily appeared, setting peacefully over the ocean's horizon.

It wasn't that the sight was truly displeasing. Just unsettling. Gaara's screech did not help the situation at all. "Hush or I'll skin you!" Sasori venomously spat, weary of his pet's antics. Honestly what was wrong with him today?

"Perhaps if this … Ribbit … disgusting ring-tailed rodent was not such a NEGATIVE influence –"

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME? OH IT'S ON!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP GAARA!" The puppet master snapped, reaching to his shoulder to choke the slick bastard. "Now warty toad, what is it do you want?"

Between the puppet's wooden fingers, the frog Rock Lee retorted, "ONLY to advocate the blossoming of the future of Konoha … Ribbit. Now that your grandmother has left you without your YOUTHFULNESS you must go and SPREAD THE GIFT OF YOUR BEARINGS to others through the educational facilities. Ribbit."

A tear of youthfulness trickled down the amphibian's shinning face.

"What?"

"Master Puppet, he wants you to go to school." Gaara elaborated, excitement soaring at the image of the wiggling, slippery bastard at his master's mercy. 'We know Sasori would butcher the frog,' the pet insisted.

Instead, this callous explanation had the opposite desired effect the tanuki sought.

Intrigued by this odd request, Sasori's fingers loosened around the frog's throat, "How would that help me? I hate studying, I hate stuffy rooms, I hate not playing, not wandering, not sleeping, not relaxing. Most of all I hate people."

"But wooden doll, your STRENGTH and BODY will BENEFIT from the rigorous training at school ... Ribbit … Here in this home you'll waste away. With the constant VIGILANCE of school even your empty, hollow head can return home relieved." Said the shrewd frog in a calm voice.

The puppet's murky eyes bore harshly at the rash amphibian who dared to mock his greatness, "Be careful little frog. Be careful not to get me angry. You'll be sorry if you do," he warned.

"OH TO BE CONTENT WITH WHAT YOU ARE! A life-less, motionless toy! Why you are nothing … Ribbit … nothing without a brain in that wooden skull – RIBBIT!"

With those last words, Sasori in fury plucked the anchor from his abdomen (another improvement on his near-perfect body) and threw it with all his strength at Rock Lee the frog. Although Rock Lee was a renowned taijutsu master, even he could not dodge the speeding weapon. The spear anchored by an elongated rope spread the green beast of Kohona in half, dead.

The mess splattered across the puppet's face, sticking dourly on the wooden surface. The redness seeped in Sasori's spear, where the once vibrant frog's body now tore in half. A sharp cackling began from behind the toy doll, who stood still with shock.

Perhaps Sasori did not expect the anchor-like spear to pierce the frog.

"Hehehe. Master that was so deliciously enticing. Mother loves it when you pain the ground. Do it again for us!" chortled the mad tanuki, "Master?"

Sasori shook the red from his hands indignantly, "Great. I stained the coat. Better go wash it off."

Later that day the puppet pondered the overly zealous frog's words.

"Gaara. That creature was annoying, but I do believe I am going to either wither away or go insane with only _you_ as my companion."

Gaara hated the village. He would rather eat his own paws before submitting to the scum within Konoha. However, the raccoon knew this was not his decision to make. His master would have to learn on his own, after submerging himself with society.

"Go into town then Master. Search out this Iruka-sensei if you wish. He is the teacher at the Academy," the tanuki suggested, tail swaying softly against his master's wooden back. Sasori petted the small creature, who in contentment, purred faintly.

"But remember Master, they do not take kindly of our people," the little raccoon cryptically warned, "After all, are we really of Konoha?"

To end at an equally disturbing note, the accursed puppet skipped merrily into town (eagerly anticipating the prospect of doing something other than vegetating solemnly) and decided to slaughter some hogs nibbling on a piece of his recently cleansed robe. Needless to say, Sasori soaked his favorite cloak in the daughter of the miller's laundry basin. He could really careless if he stained some of that whore's garments.

The wooden boy now sat in front of an instructor of the Academy, cloaked in the skin of his most prized puppet Hiruko. Sasori had learned since his last interaction with the mortal villagers that the identification of his face may pose some … undesirable questions. Also if he was protected behind a mask – encased in a shield that was his puppet – then perhaps those spiteful hairless rats could not hurt him. However in order for his façade to succeed then he would have to rely on the art of intimidation.

What was more intimidating then the deformed, thug-like body of his favored toy?

It didn't really repulse him that he, a puppet, was also wearing a puppet.

"So you want to attend school? I am sorry Mister … Sasori was it? But you must have a legal guardian sign this form." Iruka absentmindedly wondered how any child could be as deformed as the one before him.

"Iruka-sensei, due to an unfortunate event my only living guardian has been put under surveillance with Informer Ibiki. I do not believe she is able to sign any forms at the moment," the grotesque child admitted, still as stone in that most uncomfortable of all benches.

"You an orphan?" the teacher hesitantly asked. Iruka had always held a soft-heart towards the basket cases. His own parents had been eaten during the crisis of the awakening of Kyuubi, the nine-tailed demon lord of fire. Since then, the sensei has had an aversion with foxes and, of course, sympathetic favoritism towards orphans.

"In a sense. My parents were murdered," the repulsive boy confessed, his emotionless eyes wavering curiously at the teacher.

And it seemed that the new student, though deformed and grotesque, mirrored his own life. Iruka-sensei sighed, 'This was going to be a troublesome year'.


End file.
